


#42: When Giving a Thank You Speech, Short and Simple is Best

by Knitwritezombie (Missa_G)



Series: 100 Rules for Adults (That Clint Barton Never Learned) [42]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Awards, Gen, Oblivious Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 02:27:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6835261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missa_G/pseuds/Knitwritezombie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SHIELD is just like other agencies, right? So awards banquets must be a thing. Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	#42: When Giving a Thank You Speech, Short and Simple is Best

SHIELD was, at its heart, a secret agency. Despite the logo and the international oversight, they largely operated within the shadows and on the fringe of the intelligence community. So, where the agents of the FBI had the opportunity to be nationally recognized for their service, SHIELD agents remained anonymous as they went about saving the world. 

At least to those outside the organization.

Inside, it was a different story. 

Inside, there were unofficial ranking and contests, ridiculous things like most memos sent, or mostly likely to bring baked goods. But there were also official sanctioned ones, like best shot on the range (which Clint was disqualified for, permanently), most take-downs in a sparring session (Natasha was out), and others. 

The big one, though, was a nominated and voted-upon award handed out yearly at an awards banquet. No one campaigned for   
it (in fact, doing so pretty much put an agent out of the running), and no one ever admitted to actually wanting it. 

It was hard living up to the title of Agent of the Year. 

Nomination forms went out six months ahead of the banquet. Voting happened in clusters and in numerous rounds; Fury and the senior staff had the final say based on the top contenders. The winner was almost always an obvious surprise. 

Of course, that also just gave the population of the agency something else to wager on. 

The banquet itself was fairly low-key. Nothing overly formal, just great food, an open bar, and a chance for folks to socialize. 

Clint got himself a drink and floated around, greeting people as he went. Coulson had pulled the short straw among the senior staff and had stayed behind in mission control to supervise the operations currently in progress. Clint had yet to see Natasha, but it wasn’t a mandatory event, and she’d been unclear on whether or not she was going to attend. 

He mingled until the serving staff appeared, and found a seat at a table near the back of the room where he could see almost everything in the large room. Around the room, others were selecting seats with people they knew, and Clint was shortly joined by Sitwell, Hill, Wu, May, and Natasha, who had slipped in at some point. Everyone was in a lighthearted mood as they chatted and enjoyed the food, though the topic of work was never far off as they eventually strayed into discussing upcoming ops and who was missing because they were in the field.

Fury began his presentation of awards before the dessert course. There were the gag-awards mixed in with the serious ones: best report, most creative use of a non-weapon as a weapon, best score on the defensive driving course, among others. He joked and teased the junior agents especially, and poked fun at the senior staff and their strange habits. 

Everyone settled down when he got to the end, though. Most of the agency took the Agent of the Year award seriously. 

It wasn’t that Clint didn’t take it seriously, he just didn’t care. Oh, he nearly always agreed with the choice, and he definitely saw the merit in awarding the title. It had a positive effect on morale, especially in an agency with a high turnover and active-duty death rate. 

The past six months had been particularly hard. There had been several missions with high casualty counts, a couple Clint had been on with Phil and Natasha. There had been recovery and retrieval missions, as well as extractions and rescues of live agents. 

Clint half listened as Fury talked about the award and how it started, about how he’d once received it himself from Director Carter after a successful high profile extraction during the Cold War. He sipped at his drink as Fury began to detail some of the actions of the year’s recipient. 

“…mounted a successful rescue of 13 junior agents on a training run in Bolivia.”

Wait, what? Clint started paying closer attention as Fury spoke, reeling off missions that Strike Team Delta had run. Well, Clint thought, it was only fair, though he figured that Fury would have played up the fact that Coulson would be receiving the award for the second time in his career. Or that how being granted the title absolutely proved that ‘Tasha could be trusted (there were some who still weren’t sure, even after several years of dedicated service). 

Which was why it took a minute for it to soak in that everyone was looking at him and clapping. 

“Go, idiot,” Natasha said with a fond smile, nodding towards the front of the room where Fury stood, looking like he wanted to roll his eyes at Clint’s monumental stupidity. 

He slid less than gracefully from his chair and pretty much stumbled the first few steps, but got his feet under him. Fellow agents and analysts and support staff clapped him on the back as he made his way to Fury, still kind of confused. He hadn’t even heard a whisper of his name being in contention. 

It took almost a full minute for the applause to die down, and then everyone was was looking at him expectantly. Clint hadn’t felt so gun-shy since the first time he’d headlined the circus. 

“Uhm,” he stammered, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck with a hand. “Someone once told me to keep things short and sweet, and …well…Thank you.”

This time Fury did roll his eyes.


End file.
